


Here There Be Dragons

by anaraine



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Gen, Slice of Life
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-03
Updated: 2015-10-03
Packaged: 2018-04-27 21:12:57
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,800
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5064355
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/anaraine/pseuds/anaraine
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A morning in the life of Charlie Weasley, dragon keeper.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Here There Be Dragons

**Author's Note:**

  * For [csichick_2](https://archiveofourown.org/users/csichick_2/gifts).



> As much as I love Tonks, I didn't feel up to writing shipfic, so instead you're getting massive headcanons about Charlie and the dragon reserve he works at. I hope that's okay! (And while this isn't covered by AO3's major warnings, I figure I should mention there is not-graphic dragons nomming on dead ferrets, and mentions of possible nasty black market dragon uses.)
> 
>  
> 
> Happy Halloween, csichick_2!

Every morning, before the sun has fully peaked over the mountains, Charlie rolls himself out of bed and staggers outside to breathe. There is something about the scents of the forest that wake him better than a fresh cuppa, breathing in air that is always laced with brimstone and ash. He stands with his face turned towards the sun, eyes closed while taking deep, slow breaths; the weight of ritual and reverence anchors him to the ground in a way that he likes. He always lingers a little too long, resulting in a rush as he dresses and uses the loo before grabbing a quick bite to eat—he knows he won't have time to run down to the mess for a proper breakfast.

"Charlie!" Ioana shouts in greeting as he jogs past her; he flashes her a smile and a jaunty wave but doesn't waste his breath shouting back. Ioana laughs as she turns down a different path that will take her to the current territory of their only female Ukrainian Ironbelly. (Vira is a whopping five and a half tons, and while generally good-natured for a dragon, is currently nesting and vicious. The only keeper that she has been allowing anywhere near her is Ioana, and given that they have another two or so months before her eggs will begin to hatch... They haven't tried to fight her on her preference.)

Charlie is headed down to see Aurelia, named not for the golden horn indicative of the Romanian Longhorn breed, but for the thick lines of golden scales along the edges of her wings and her soft underbelly. Four of her five eggs have hatched this past week, and they are already a handful.

He has barely made it into Aurelia's territory, hauling two heavy buckets of dead ferrets, before he is ambushed by four little green anklebiters. They aren't strong enough to fly yet, but they give it their best shot. Dust whirls around his ankles as they flap their wings in an attempt to gain enough lift to grab hold of his reinforced trousers, intent on reaching the buckets in any way they can manage.

Charlie can't help but snort, putting his burden down and sitting as the smallest of the hatchlings dives for one of the buckets, worming her way underneath a carcass and beginning to eat. The other three are no less patient, snapping their jaws as they grab a ferret and huddle in on themselves to eat. The one Charlie has taken to calling Ghita in his head, for the pearlescent shine to his green scales, looks at him sideways before sidling closer and flopping across his lap. He bites into his breakfast with gusto, ripping off little pieces of ferret while making soft churring sounds.

That Aurelia hasn't followed her children is a good indication that the fifth egg hasn't hatched yet, and Charlie will need to bring her a few buckets, too. Longhorns will hunt and eat bigger game, but ferrets are an acceptable substitute as long as they come in right numbers. Still, he's not going to move until Ghita does - it's a good sign that he's willing to claim Charlie as a perch for eating, and they are always trying to strengthen the bonds between dragon and handler.

The smallest of the hatchlings surfaces from the bucket, a smear of blood on her snout and looking entirely pleased with herself. Charlie doesn't understand how she is still the smallest - she is always the first to eat, and often eats more than the other three hatchlings. But there is nothing wrong with her, as far as he can tell, and the dragonologists on site agree with him. There is nothing left to do but keep an eye on her and wait for other developments.

The other two hatchlings have finished with their first ferrets as well, eeling back to the buckets to snatch another. It is a pleasant way to spend the morning, Charlie thinks, though he knows not all of the dragon keepers would agree with him. (There is a reason he is so good at casting blood stain removal spells.) He likes getting right in there with the dragons, playing with them and flying with them. He has a healthy respect of them, of course, but there's no use in being _afraid_ , like some of the dragon keepers are.

Charlie doesn't understand why people like that get into this line of work. Dragons are dangerous, sure, but if you can't take a few low-degree burns with a rueful laugh, you should probably leave the reserve and get a job behind a desk. He knows a few dragonologists like that, who washed out of being keepers, and while they are friendly people —he'd consider some of them friends, even— he is reluctant to trust any of their studies or books. Not without them collaborating with a dragonologist that does go out into the field, one who eats and sleeps and breathes dragons - and honestly, those are a rare breed.

Still, Charlie supposes there are many who get into the dragon business for the money. Not that he himself is particularly affluent - but there is a sprawling black market for dragon goods and products. A lot of it is benign - dragon claws and teeth will always grow back, and are absurdly easy to harvest from a dragon while they are growing. You'd get a full set every month from a Peruvian Vipertooth, right up until they reached full maturity. That sort of haul, if sold on the black market, would be worth a small fortune.

Charlie himself knows a few people who would cheerfully buy any Longhorn horns —both whole and decent quality pieces— he had to offer, so long as it was off the record. The price he'd get would be _much_ better than what is currently offered for selling them legally as Class B Tradeable material. The reserve tends to look the other way when it comes to that kind of benign selling - with all they do have to keep track of, what happens to a horn when a Longhorn decides to shed theirs and grow a larger one is of little importance, so long as it isn't happening _every_ time for _every_ dragon on the reserve.

But there is a dragon black market that is far more insidious - heartstrings for wands from dragons still in their prime, dragon hide that has been skinned fresh and whole instead of shed and in pieces, blood that is milked from young dragonets for virility purposes, eggs to be used in esoteric and illegal potions. The price for those bits of dragon can be worth a king's random, depending on the breed and quality. The reserve cracks down on anyone in their employ trying to get a hold of those black market items, but that doesn't mean that people don't try. Harvey Ridgebit never stood for that, and his great grand-daughter Serafina Carbone doesn't either.

(Which is not to say that the Romanian Longhorn Dragon Reservation has never dealt with those kind of black market dealers. One of the reasons why Charlie was able to get a job here—nearly the day after he got out of Hogwarts, with no real qualifications except his love of dragons and a quiet word from Hagrid—was because Fina was cleaning house. She had wanted new blood after ripping ownership of the reservation out of her Uncle's grubby fingers and chasing him into the hands of Ukranian magical authorities. Kraven Ridgebit had treated the reservation more as a slaughterhouse than a research center, and Fina has had to run roughshod over everyone who had gotten used to his ways and didn't approve of her trying to return to Harvey's original vision.)

The work is hard and his days are long; he gets free room and board (so long as he makes it down to the mess hall in time), and the pay is fine for a single unmarried man, though it would never be enough to raise a family. Not that he's currently looking to have one, mind. He's happy where he is, looking after Aurelia and her hatchlings - and it's very likely that he'll be permanently assigned to them even after they become dragonets.

Ghita has finally finished eating, turning to flop on Charlie's lap with his belly up and nudging at Charlie's fingers with his snout. Charlie gives in with an easy smile, scratching gently at the softer scales of Ghita's underbelly while the hatchling squrims in happy appreciation. Dragons aren't a creature that wizards can _tame_ , but they are definitely capable of working in harmony. Being friendly and unafraid is a big part of that. When Ghita slips free of Charlie's fingers, darting out from under them and after one of his clutchmates, Charlie gets up to bring Aurelia her own breakfast.

"Hello, beautiful," he greets her with a smile, and Aurelia uncurls, slightly, from her position around her last egg. She is a full twenty feet long, tiny compared to an Ironbelly, but a respectable size for a Longhorn. He tosses a ferret towards her and she snaps it up as it arcs in the air, bones crunching between her teeth. She looks at him expectantly and Charlie throws another; they get through the third bucket and into the fourth before she settles, stretching her wings out to their full span before pulling them back in and rearranging herself around her egg.

She seems very placid today, so Charlie risks getting a bit closer. He keeps his pace steady and slow, making sure he remains in her line of sight. Aurelia allows the intrusion with little more than a puff a warm breath in his face, smelling only faintly of brimstone and more of dead ferret.

"And how is our youngest?" Charlie asks, even though he knows to keep his gestures far away from the remaining egg.

Aurelia butts her head against his stomach, gently enough that he barely rocks back, and he lifts his hand to scratch along the ridge of tiny scales that cover her snout. The churring noise she makes is pleased, but about a hundred times louder than Ghita's; he can feel the noise vibrating in his bones. It is always a thrill to be this _close_ to such an amazing creature.

However, as much as he'd enjoy spending his entire day here, Charlie has an long list of things that must be done before dusk. He's on the day shift for the rest of the month, and unlike the night shift, if he doesn't finish his work, he doesn't get to stop as the other shift wakes up. So with one final scratch to Aurelia's snout, he pulls himself away, and goes about his day.


End file.
